


A life complete

by orphan_account



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, M/M, Pre-Smaug, Slight prejudice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-09
Updated: 2013-03-09
Packaged: 2017-12-04 19:36:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/714305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the training ground in Erebor, Dwalin finds he has all he needs, least it be taken away from him by some unforeseen event.<br/>Prequel to Crude Acts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A life complete

The sun shone brightly on the common training grounds that lay a short way northeast from the City of Dale. The two warriors currently dancing around each other on the dusty sand-ridden ground—as smoothly as their heavy dwarven boots would allow, had opted out of wearing their standard metal armours. They trusted the other enough to know the difference of strength needed to swing a practice blow, versus a killing one. 

A third dwarf reclined on a wooden bench, watching the the ongoing fight with his double-wielded axe resting in a lax grip. The golden braids of his beard looked almost translucent in the strong rays of the sun.

Dwalin had forgone one part of his better half; his axe Keeper—feeling slightly off-kilter wielding only Grasper so as to not give him an extra advantage over Gloin's single axe. Dwalin's axes were made to come in pair and Gloin's axe had a longer sharper side that curved into a point, which made for efficent slashing as well as stabbing. 

This did little to deter Dwalin. Gloin might be a fully trained warrior like him, but Dwalin was a guardsman as well. His opinon of thieves be what they may, but he could not deny that many times chasing them hadn't learnt him a dirty trick or two.

Dwalin looked up—or down rather, for Gloin slightly shorter, and flashed him a cocky grin after just side-stepping Gloin's swing at his stomach. Gloin huffed irritably; clearly annoyed at both the warmth and Dwalin constantly getting the better of him. Dwalin, for his part, hoped he did a better job of disguising of how much the heat and their training was really getting to him. No dwarf favored the heat and brightness of the sun, after all. 

Gloin took his look as further challenge and charged at him again with roar, his axe swung over his head for maximum strength. 

Hadrin chuckled at Dwalin's look of surprise. From where he was sitting on the wooden bench he could just make out that Dwalin had not been expecting such a response from the redheaded dwarf. Perhaps Dwalin had thought Gloin would throw down his axe in defeat upon experiencing Dwalin's supposed never-ending fighting stamina. To Hadrin, Dwalin's bulging eyes and cocky grin, along with his gravity-defying mohawk had him looking practically maniacal, if anything.

Gloin grunted as he had to twist his axe out of the ground. His blows was clearly no longer practise ones, if it could pierce through the ground, no matter how little. Dwalin hadn't had any problem side-stepping that blow either. He knew Gloin wasn't really out to hurt him, but he sharpened his defenses anyway, for he also knew Gloin would be outraged if he sensed Dwalin was holding back while Gloin was going at it with full strength.

"You..." Gloin piped as he swung a fast, but ill-fitted blow somewhere around Dwalin's thigh-area. "...blasted.." he swung a blow similar to the one that had struck the ground, this time with considerably less strength, as his breathing was getting heavier. "...dwarrow!" he growled at last; the sound covering the pathetic click the blade of his axe made as it hit the ground.

"Dead." As the rightful winner, Dwalin uttered Gloin's would-be fate. He now had both Grasper and Keeper in his grip and pointed at either side of Gloin's throat, who was perched on one knee and had one fisted set of knuckles pressed to the ground. Gloin snapped his eyes upon hearing the sentence to meet the towering warrior's above him with a defiant snarl. Dwalin felt as confident as ever.

Hadrin rose from the bench with a slap to both knees, making his way over to the scene. "Gloin, Gloin..." he dragged out the name with a leer on his face. "It seems your fate was unknown, much like the Arkenstone's"

Dwalin blew out an amused sound through his nose at Hadrin's words, keeping his triumphant glare fixed on Gloin. He had never understood Hadrin's fascination for grand words and complicated verses—the ones about unrequited love and tragic deaths especially prefered by his partner. The King's Jewel, also known as the Arkenstone, had been found a week ago deep within the mountain, and ever since Hadrin hadn't stopped reciting bad poems in it's honor.

Hadrin's words was meant to tease, but Dwalin saw something deeper strike in Gloin's eyes, who had never left his own the entire time Dwalin had him cornered on the ground. Gloin took hold of the handle on Keeper and used his grip to shove both twin axes out of his way. It was an easy thing to do, for Dwalin hadn't been holding them to Gloin's throat with any real malice. 

Dwalin switched his grip so he held both axes in one hand. With the other he reached out to help Gloin to his feet. 

Gloin slapped the offering hand away and stood up with an accusing stare at his own axe.  
"Beaten, with my father's axe..." he paused mid-sentence and scolded his features into a look of indignation, as if deciding his axe could not be of fault for his own loss. His eyes held all the blame as he narrowed them in on Dwalin and muttered "by a...".

With a final harsh look towards Hadrin, who had come to stand at Dwalin's right side, Gloin strode of from the training ground and back towards the Lonely Mountain.

Dwalin slowly raised his head to the sky with eyes closed, feeling his anger starting to fume—a second longer and it could outmatch the heat of the sun in intensity.

"He thinks he knows it all..." Hadrin began in a quiet tone, placing a hand on the back of Dwalin's shoulder.

"He knows enough!" Dwalin cut him off

"By Aulë's feet!" he spat. "For all our work—for all our work at keeping silent, sneaking around, and lying to our kin, the damned dwarf knows!"

The sound of small birds chirping from some unseen place could be heard—and if one strained ones ears, the hustle and bustle coming from the City of Dale could be heard too. If not for the agony of one particular dwarf and his lover, all seemed right with the world

What Dwalin wouldn't give in that moment for it to be true.

Apparently, he had closed his eyes again, for he felt a hand gripping his beard at the tip. Before allowing his head to follow the hold, he cast a glance at something that first caught his eyes when he'd opened them. 

It was Hadrin's double-wielded axe, resting beside Dwalin's war hammer against an oak tree. He must have placed it there earlier—before coming to my side, Dwalin thought absentmindedly.

Hadrin pressed his lips to Dwalin's in a desperate kiss when the taller warrior finally faced him. Dwalin let out a huff that sounded like a small whimper, and his precious twin axes slid out of his hand to the ground, a thin cloud of dust swirling up around them.

He slid his hands into Hadrin's beard—where Dwalin's were short and coarse, Hadrin's were long and silky-soft. That's what he loved about kissing his beloved; this opportunity to run his hands through his, in Dwalin's opinion, immaculate beard. What he loved the most, however, was to clasp at one of Hadrin's four golden braids adorning his face.

Hadrin was the first to break the kiss and pulled Dwalin's head forward with a hand on his neck— their foreheads now resting against each other's.

"He doesn't know how much I care for you..", he rubbed the hand on Dwalin's neck back and forth a bit, as if to physically strengthen his point. "He doesn't know about the love I have for you.." 

Taken aback, Dwalin suddenly felt the need fight back tears. He stubbornly hoped it was the cause of his axes dropping earlier and the upcoming dust—perhaps the wind had suddenly picked up and carried the grit past the edges of his boots and up to his eyes. 

Dwalin let go of one hand in Hadrin's beard and wound it along the small of his back, feeling Hadrin do the same to him with his free arm. Hadrin let out a pained breath before finishing, the press of their forheads together almost painful by now; "He doesn't know that I would give my life for you, without a moment's notice."

"Hadrin, I..."

Before Dwalin ever had a chance to continue, a great roar sounded over the trees, drowning out all other noise in a horrifying instant. Human screams matched the next sound that was not a roar, but something else. Dwalin thought he'd heard something similar once when he was a little dwarfling, joining his father for the first time in the forges, squeezing Balin's hand hard in a nervous grip as they strode along. 

Something had exploded in one of the smith's furnace—a volley of fire spewing out of the thing, after the blast had ripped of the door to the oven. Dwalin and Balin's father had managed by a hair's width to keep his beard out of the line of fire.

It was the same sound, Dwalin decided, after it burst through the air a second time.

The sound of fire. Smaug had come.

**Author's Note:**

> It came out a bit too sappy for my liking. Oh well.
> 
> The lack of scottish accents, spelling and grammar mistakes, or other weird things, are all mine to blame.


End file.
